


We All Need Help Sometimes

by alittlebitofinsanity



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Abusive Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:18:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlebitofinsanity/pseuds/alittlebitofinsanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hotch is struggling to cope with circumstances surrounding him, but he doesn't realize that Emily is in far graver danger. Hotch/Emily are the main paring though might be others.</p>
<p>Same work from FF.net as I'm the same author, just under a different name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Truth Hurts

FBI agent Aaron Hotchner came into work feeling like shit. The papers finalising his divorce had come through the door this morning, and the lease on the flat he was renting was due to run out tomorrow and he still hadn't gotten around to paying next installment of rent. Ever since he and Hailey had argued a couple of months ago and he had walked out, he had been living on his own with Jack visiting every other weekend.

The walk up to his office for Hotch was one of shame to him; bosses didn't usually come into work three hours late, and if they did they at least had a reasonable excuse. But he had none, he had overslept, something that he had been doing a lot lately. He had a routine of going to bed a three in the morning and waking up at seven, if he was lucky this kept the nightmares at bay, however, today wasn't one of his lucky days.

The rest of the team were already there and waiting for him, they all knew that there was something going on; the leader of the team didn't turn up three hours late for no reason and then there was the simple fact that they are all profilers, but none of them were willing to ask. Even Rossi didn't dare ask what was wrong, and he was the one who usually made it his business to finding out what was wrong with everybody.

No one that is apart from Emily; she was the one person that he could rely on, she was his rock. But what he wasn't aware of was that as he was telling her about his day and his divorce, she was going through her own problems.

At first glance, you wouldn't guess that there was anything wrong with Emily, but if you looked close enough then you would be able to see where the concealer had been applied a little too thick on her face, and that she always favoured her left arm to her right when punching Morgan. You would also see, if you happened to look at her the exact moment she turned her head slightly, bruises on her neck that she kept covered with her hair. However no one ever looked close enough to notice.

As well as relying on makeup and lies, she relied on black coffee. They all did; the only thing that kept the entire team going was black coffee.

There were times when Emily had been up all night, tending to her injuries, and had not managed to get any sleep, so she drank coffee to keep. When Hotch had been awake all night, unable to sleep due to the divorce that loomed over his head, and was called in he drank coffee.

To the team, coffee was as essential as breathing.

It looked to be one of those days he observed as he surveyed the bull pen from his office. His team hadn't been needed for the past few days which to him was strange as he knew that there were case files piled up to the ceiling in JJ's office. He decided to puzzle over that conundrum later.

When there were no new cases, the team got fidgety and when they got fidgety tempers flared, he remembered when Morgan had accidentally knocked Emily's coffee cup filled with hot coffee into her lap, needless to say it hadn't gone own well.

He saw Emily walk past his door and called her into his office.

"Emily, could you come in here for a moment please?"

She couldn't say no to her boss, well she could but it wasn't polite and it would probably border on insubordination.

"Yes, sir."

"How many times have I told you to drop the 'sir'?" he joked.

Over the past few months they had fast become close friends, and seeing that they were in each other's company for the vast majority of the day they had decided, out of ease, to drop the formal titles around others, and just stick to 'Aaron', and 'Emily'.

"Too many to count, 'sir'."

She knew her tone came across as sarcastic, but she was in pain, and she didn't care. All Emily wanted to do was go to the toilets and change one of the dressings on one of the deeper wounds that he had given her just this morning when she hadn't made breakfast properly.

"Sorry about that, si-" she stopped herself then carried on, "Aaron."

She managed not to sound as if she was mocking him, but failed miserably.

"Emily, you okay?" he asked, the concerned showing on his face.

"Yeah, Aaron, I'm fine, just in a bit of pain. I banged my side yesterday as I was walking past my counter top." At his pointed look she reiterated, "Seriously, a few aspirin and I won't even notice the pain."

She wished that it were that easy; normally aspirin didn't do anything for her as she had developed a certain tolerance to pain killers, a fact that never lightened her mood.

Emily had always prided herself on the ability to think and to lie on her feet, but the fact that it was partially the truth didn't hurt; she had hurt her side, but it wasn't but walking into the counter top.

"Sure?"

Emily gave him one of her famous glares. The self-labelled 'Emily-glare' was something that Morgan always seemed evoke from her, and sensing that she was in no mood for joviality, Aaron held his hands up in surrender.

"Did you want me for anything?" she questioned. Emily's patience was wearing thin; she really needed to go to the toilet.

"No, not really, I just thought I would tell you that my final divorce papers came through, all I have to do is sign." He sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands.

"Aaron, I'm so sorry. What does it say about visitation rights to Jack?"

She knew that he loved the boy more than anything, and that not being able to see him daily was getting him down.

"Every Sunday and alternate Saturdays."

Emily didn't know what to say, but his posture to her everything she needed to know. She knew he felt ashamed; he had put his career before family, and everyone knew that was a sure fire way to end a marriage. Aaron had told her once that he felt like a failure as a father because he wasn't always there for Jack; she had reassured him by pointing out all the good things about your dad being a Special Agent, but it had done little to lift his spirits.

"At least it's something," she said, knowing that those four words were most probably the lamest words of condolences ever uttered.

There was a time when they didn't know if Hailey would allow him any visitation rights. During that time he was a mess, he once came into work reeking of alcohol and she had sent him home as soon as she had seen his face.

"Yeah."

Emily thought about how much she knew of him and how little Aaron knew of her. However, she had purposely kept it that way as she didn't want to burden him with her worries; he had enough of his own. So Emily never told him of the makeup and the bruises, and if she could manage it without needing help, she was never going to.

Her secrets remained just as that, secrets. No matter how much she longed to tell someone, she knew she couldn't. She wanted someone to hold her and make the pain go away and Emily knew the someone she wanted was Aaron, but she knew that she would never have the guts to tell him; she was too scared.

"Listen, Aaron, I know that now's a really bad time, but I really need the loo, do you mind? If you want I can come over to yours later, and we can bitch about Strauss again?"

That managed to evoke a small smile from him, it was something. "Yeah, sure. I'm sorry for keeping you." He looked up at her and saw that she was desperate.

"It's fine, so I'll see you later?" She knew that he needed to talk, and after she had taken care of her more pressing problem, she would lend him her ear.

"Emily, we work together."

She rolled her eyes at that, "I mean outside of work."

"Yeah, is eight okay for you?"

"Make that half past; there may be no cases at the moment, but I still have a lot of paperwork to catch up on."

"Deal."

She gave him a smile that he returned as she walked out the door. Thankfully he hadn't noticed her small limp, and made her way towards the toilets.

After walking into the toilets the first thing Emily did was check that every one of the stalls was empty. As there were only two it took no time at all, but she had had a few close run ins in the past and it never hurt to be safe. After she had locked the main door that granted access to the toilets (it hadn't been easy stealing and making an impression of the key from the janitor, then retuning it and not flushing guiltily every time she saw him) she sank down to the cold tile floor, hissing in pain as the movement jarred her side. Lifting her top she could see the once white bandage had red splotches dotted over it, and had she been in a more macabre mood she would have played dot to dot as she had done once before. With practised ease she took of the bloodied bandaged and changed it for a clean one, determinedly ignoring the five letter word carved into her skin.

'Bitch'. It was a new word he had added to her collection just this morning. If someone were to look close enough, not that they would, they would see various other four letter words engraved at various other parts of her skin. She was a mess. Thankfully though, to see the rest of those words you had to lift her top, and there was no way she was going to let that happen.

After washing her hands and making sure the other bandaged had been disposed of properly Emily made her way over to the mirror and looked at her reflection. She didn't even recognise the woman who was staring back at her. Emily felt a lone tear slip down her face and whispered the words she wished she could say to someone other than her reflection.

"My boyfriend is slowly killing me Aaron, and I can't even tell you. The worst part is I've fallen hopelessly in love with you, and I know that you don't feel the same way about me. I need you to help me, Aaron, before it's too late."

A bang on the door startled her from her confession.

"Emily?" Aaron's voice sounded tentative and unsure, something that he was usually not, but she didn't notice; she was too busy staring at her reflection, seeing the imperfections supposedly masked by the makeup.

"Yes?" Her voice sounded broken and unsure. She only hoped he didn't notice.

"We have a case."

"Okay, I'll be right out."

After taking one last look at herself in the mirror to check that her makeup was still doing what it promised on the package she turned to face the metaphorical music; it was show time.

However, what Emily didn't know was that Aaron had heard her whole confession; thin walls seemed one of the perks, if you could call it that, of government funding.


	2. Conversations

During the flight back from their most recent case all Emily could feel was pain, and it wasn't just physical pain the she could feel. The case that they had come back from was a nasty one that involved both domestic abuse and rape. For as long as she had been enrolled in any sort of official capacity, domestic cases and rape cases had always hit a raw nerve with her. At one point in the investigation Emily couldn't control herself and had to excuse herself from an interview with the main unsub.

_They had just apprehended the suspect when Prentiss came round the corner. Hotch looked at her, concerned etched into his face, as he knew what was the matter with her but he had to let her come to him in her own time or else she would never forgive him; Prentiss was a proud woman, or the Prentiss he knew was. He had noticed that at times she seemed to stare off into distance, and the team hadn't noticed because she had done it when she thought no one was looking, but he had noticed. Hotch always noticed. She had a lost, vacant expression on her face during those times; it appeared to him that she seemed to be reminiscing over something that had happened to her. As they were walking the suspect over to the cop car, Emily drew nearer and he spat at her, they knew that the suspect was HIV positive because he left seminal fluid after raping the domestic abuse victims. The team all knew that HIV couldn't be passed on through spitting, but apparently the suspect did not._

_During the interview, Hotch and Morgan batted observations backward and forwards, talking as if the unsub wasn't present._

" _You know, Morgan, I think that he was abused when he was younger."_

" _Hotch, I think you may be right. The rage that these victims were killed with all suggests that the unsub has untreated emotional issues, and the fact that he only targeted victims of domestic violence suggests that h-" Morgan was interrupted by an irate looking Prentiss marched through the door into the interrogation room._

" _You sick son of a bitch. Did you enjoy it when they were crying out for help and no one came to help them? Did you enjoy using them as a punch bag? Wasn't it enough that they were being abused at home? No, of course not. No, you had to go and abuse them some more before you killed them!"_

" _Prentiss!" Hotch shouted when she went to lunge for the unsub._

_Both Morgan and Hotch saw the shift in her posture, and the emotions that flickered across her fact. Her yelling had drawn the rest of the team, and most of the officers from the precinct near the interrogation room, and she could see the same question etched in each of their gazes; 'what the hell was she doing?', or some variant of that. The only gaze that didn't seem to be questioning was Hotch's; he looked at her with such compassion that it seemed to bring her back to her senses, and with the return of her senses she fled the room, mumbling an apology to her team and the surrounding officers._

_The only person who followed her, the only person who dared to follow her was Hotch._

_After looking for her in the canteen he found her outside, hunched over, leaning against the wall. She looked so broken. Learning from past mistakes he made his steps audible as he approached, and it was only when he stood less than a meter away from her did he start to talk._

" _Emily, all this time I've been telling you my problems, and I hadn't realised that you have never told me yours. Forgive me for being selfish."_

_He was in the same stance as her now, and he reached out to touch her hand and she flinched; only very slightly, most people would miss it, but not him; he was trained to see things others didn't._

" _Emily, what is going on? Please tell me something, anything. I'm here-" Hotch didn't get to finish his sentence as a shrill tone broke the fragile atmosphere that surrounded them._

" _Prentiss,_ _" she answered, her voice wavering slightly when she recognised the person on the other end of the line._

_From where he stood, Hotch could hear the bits and pieces of the conversation._

_**"** _ _**Stupid bitch. I said that you had to be home by now. I might just have to teach you a lesson when you get back."** _

" _I … I'm sorry, but the ...we only just apprehended the suspect and-"_

**"** _**Sorry? Sorry isn't going to cut it. When you get back you will be punished. Do you remember, Emily, how we punish women who don't do as they are told?"** _

_Hotch wasn't able to hear any more of the conversation as Emily had started to walk away. When she did eventually come back she looked worn, like a rag doll, but he didn't question her. The look in her eyes told him it wasn't a good time. The look in her eyes said, 'if you ask me now I'll break'. So he didn't ask; he just waited until she had composed herself enough to go back in and explain (or fabricated) what had just happened to the others._

_Hotch wasn't going to let the matter drop though, one thing he knew for sure was that he_ _ was _ _going to get to the bottom off this._

The team had yet to look at her the same and the pain coming from her back was immense, almost too much for her to handle. They had been on the plane for three hours so far and she was starting to panic; she had already told _him_ that it would take no longer than three hours getting back, but because of her behaviour in the interrogation room and some thunder and lighting, she was now eight hours over the estimated time she had told him. Emily knew that her last beating was not going compare to the one she would have when he had finished with her tonight. Her phone rang and she answered it before anyone woke up from their slumber, but as she picked the phone up, more than one person, other than herself caught the conversation.

"Hi, I'm on the plane. I'll be home soon. Don't fret."

**"** **Do I detect sarcasm from you young lady? Hmm, I think that will be another beating for you when you get home."**

"Please, no. I can barely stand from the damage you did to my back last night."

**"** **Well you should have thought of that before you opened your big mouth."**

"I'm sorry."

**"** **Not good enough you stupid whore. I bet that if I dumped you now no one would even take a second glance at you. Dumped by a FBI agent, you would be a laughing stock."**

"I … I'm sorry."

**"** **Make sure that you make me dinner."**

What Emily didn't know was that both Hotch and Morgan had overheard all of the conversation. They had both just woken up, through truthfully Hotch had never really fallen asleep, when they heard Emily's phone ringing and as they listened to the subsequent conversation they knew something had to be done. That resolve was only strengthened when they both saw Emily trying to discreetly wipe away tears from her eyes.


	3. I'm Fine

Emily looked outside of her bedroom window, it was snowing. There was snow slowly falling outside, some melting on the ground, some of it stuck to the ground while the majority of it melted into nothingness. She wished she could do that; melt into nothingness.

Tears were streaming down her face. The only traces of the mascara she had worn this morning were in the abstract pictures the liquid had painted on her face.

He had left for the day, but his leaving was of little relief; Emily had to go into work today. She had been suspended for a week over her little show, a week of her own of personal hell thanks to Strauss. Though, Strauss had been kind enough not to put it on her permanent record; she just put it down as 'personal time' instead.

"Emily?"

She jumped, and looked around. There was nothing there. Emily was sure she had heard someone.  
"Emily!"

This time she knew she had heard someone. Emily looked out the window once more to see three other SVU's parked outside of her house. All of the team were here. She froze in panic. Her breath started to come in short, sharp gasps.

**Outside**

"Hotch, are you sure this is the right place? There's no light on."

"JJ, her car is outside, and she is in the upstairs window," he replied.

They all stared up at the window just in time to see a startled Emily Prentiss struggling to control her breathing. As soon as her eyes connected with Hotch's, she moved away from the window and out of their line of sight.

"Emily, you had better open this door or else we will break in. We are F.B.I. agents you know; we have smashed down many doors before now."

**Inside**

Emily knew they had, she was the one who had broken most of them down.

The pounding had gotten louder.

A new voice joined in on the chorus.

"There's no need to pound the door down Agent Hotchner. I have the key."

It was him.

He was going to let them into her home; the place where she came to every night, the place where she felt so alone, the place where she was beaten nightly.

"Thank you man, much appreciated."

That was Morgan's voice. She knew it off by heart, ever since she joined the team she had teased him endlessly about it; how it was so evident from the tone of his voice that you knew where he was from.

But, how could they just stand there and not arrest him? They knew what he had done, she had told them yesterday. Over the phone. They all said that if they ever saw him they would be sorry.

She was confused.

Emily heard the key turn in the lock. She raced down the stairs. There were three locks on her door, he was only on the first one if she got down fast enough then perhaps she would be able to stop him.

She was too late.

The door was thrown off his hinges with a loud 'bang' and in the doorway stood JJ, Reid, Hotch, Morgan, Garcia and Tom.

They all smiled at her, they called her a 'whore' and 'a cop's bitch'. Then they started to laugh, pointing to her tear stained face.

"What's going on?" Emily tried to make her voice sound hard and fearless, but it only came out as a soft whisper.

"Look," said Reid, "she can't even stand up for herself properly." Reid was laughing while he said it, tears streaming down his face.

His tears were from laughter.

The jeering continued, and then someone threw a gun at her.

"I bet you she couldn't even take her own life," sneered Hotch.

Hotch, the man that she had always admired, the man who was now calling her a wimp and a coward, was telling her to take her own life?

"Nah, she probably couldn't man; she has no skills! She wasn't any good in bed either; mind you it's a shame that the government spent all the money training her for nothing."

An implication lingered in his tone.

Before she could hear any more of their jeering, Emily put the gun in her mouth, and pulled the trigger.

The whole world went dark.

Emily woke up disorientated, and looked around. Her eyes met with the concerned faces of Hotch from the rear view mirror and Morgan, who had turned around in his seat to look at her, a question in his eyes.

It was a dream she told herself. Just a dream.

"Are you okay Emily?"

Hotch was driving in the SVU back from the airport. How did she get in the SVU?

"How did I get in here?" she asked, unaware of the worried looks she was receiving from the two occupants of the vehicle.

"I carried you." It was Hotch who answered.

"Oh."

She looked at him in time to see him glance away from her; his eyes were now on the road and remained there for about twenty minutes before he said, "You never answered Morgan's question from before Emily, are you okay?"

Emily thought about answering truthfully for a moment. She could tell them, and they might be able to help, but she couldn't chance them not believing her. The risk was too great. What if they took Tom's word over hers? How would she work with them again? They would just think of her as a whiny woman who lied when under a little stress.

Then she remembered a scene from her dream, the one where they were all laughing at her.

"I'm fine," she answered, turning to look out of the window.

"I'm fine," she whispered, knowing that she was anything but.


	4. Confrontation

The nightmare had left her exhausted. She had managed to cover the dark circles left under her eyes with concealer this morning, but there was only so much concealer you could put on before it looked more like war paint.

Going against his gut, Hotch dropped Emily off in the parking lot outside her flat and told her to get some sleep. His eyes searched her face for any hesitance; any nervousness in her countenance. He knew something wasn't right, but he had no proof. He wanted to help her, but he had _no_ proof. As a man, and an agent he had never felt as powerless as he felt now. But, Emily had only smiled and told them that they too needed to get some rest.

As they drove off, Emily cursed as she realised she had told Hotch to drop her off at _her_ apartment and not _his_ house. She was supposed to cook for him tonight; he had told her so on the plane. Emily rummaged around in her bag for her phone in a blind panic as she pulled it out she found, to her dismay, three voicemails waiting to be checked. She was torn between the need to sleep and the need to check the messages, but she knew that in the end if she didn't do the latter, she wouldn't get the former.

With a slight shake in her hand that hadn't been there before she held the phone up to her ear.

**"Emily, where is my dinner?"**

The first message was only brief, but she knew there was worse to come.

**"Emily, Emily, Emily. I have told you repeatedly to not disobey me. Now we both know what happens when you do. I'll be waiting."**

The second message sent shivers down her spine. The last time she had disobeyed him was a few days ago when her skin was still tender from the knife he had used to cut into her skin.

**"Emily..."**

She had to bite her fist to stop herself from whimpering. Prentiss' didn't whimper. She would have preferred a message detailing what he was going to do with her because not knowing was worse, the silence was worse. One time he had locked her in a cupboard for days with only the bare minimal needed in order to survive. She had had to wear baggy clothes for weeks to hid the fact that underneath her clothes was little more than skin and bones.

A new message had come through; one that she automatically recognised, it was the standard message to get their buts back to Quantico for a new case. She snapped to phone shut and headed over to her car.

Emily decided not to go back to him just yet, they had a case, and she needed time to heal from the last beating, even if it was only a few hours.

The rest of the team arrived back at Quantico, only to be pulled in for another case. Normally if another case presented itself they all went home to sleep and to re-pack their bags, but time was of the essence in this case, and they all knew it. So 10pm found them sitting round the conference table with case files in front of them. Hotch had told JJ not to call in Emily, she needed the rest and truthfully, he didn't know how her behaviour was going to go down with Strauss.

"I know you guys have just come back, but..."

Hotch took over, when JJ trailed off, the previous case had been hard on her. Hell, it had been hard on all of them. He glanced at each of his team members and he could see the strain on each of their faces. Normally they could do back to back cases, but this time they wouldn't have Emily and Emily was the driving force behind them. She was their mother, their sister, their confident, and their friend all in one tiny person.

"...we have another case."

"No shit, Sherlock!"

The team looked shocked at Morgan's outburst. It wasn't often that his temper got the best of him, and like Hotch all the team knew that if Morgan didn't get whatever he wanted to get out of his system they were all in trouble.

"Morgan." Hotch's tone was stricter than any of them had heard in a long time, and as such the team knew not to interrupt the battle going on between the two men.

"No, Hotch. I want the truth; do you know what's going on with her?"

"Morgan now isn't the best time for this."

"Really Hotch? Well then, when is the best time? When she comes to work with a broken nose, or when you get a notice for a new employee?"

The statement bordered on grounds for suspension, but under the circumstances he figured that he could let it slide.

Hotch looked at his team, he _really_ looked at his team.

Spencer looked lost, that was the only term that seemed to fit with his current facial expression. All the team knew that after his abduction he had leant on Emily more than Jason; she had become his best friend, his confident and Hotch was sure that he looked at her as a mother figure.

JJ had an expression that bordered between angry and upset. The team knew that it wasn't wise to keep something team related from her, JJ was the glue that kept them all together and if she didn't know something, she couldn't help, and if she couldn't help, members of the team fell out. Hotch also knew that JJ and Emily were as thick as thieves.

Garcia looked like a wounded puppy; she obviously had caught on to what the two men were on about and Hotch felt sorry for her, she had seen so much horror, had dealt with things even he had never touched upon, and yet she still brought a smile to his lips. After she had been shot Emily had stepped in where Morgan couldn't, she had provide the support and gave back Garcia the courage to be herself again.

Rossi was silent and Hotch couldn't fathom what was going on behind his cool exterior. He knew that Dave often confided in the younger agent but to what extent he didn't know, he also didn't know if that confidence went both ways.

And then there was Morgan. Morgan looked pissed off. That was the only way he could describe it. He had relied on Emily when Garcia was shot, he had doubted himself for the first time; he was worried that he wouldn't be able to take care of Penelope and that he would let her down. Emily had reassured him every step of the way.

They all needed Emily. They all relied heavily on her, and even if they didn't realise it she was the missing piece of the puzzle. She was family, and family didn't keep thing from each other.

Hotch and Morgan both knew why Emily had snapped at the unsub, but they didn't reveal to her that they knew. During her sleep in the car she had called out for someone to help her, they both were helpless as they both knew that Prentiss would not accept help from anyone even in sleep Prentiss would be horrified at the thought of appearing weak she wouldn't ask for help, Emily might have, but not Prentiss. They also knew that they couldn't force Emily to tell them what was wrong. She would tell them when she was ready, but at the same time they both knew that she would never be ready to admit what was happening to her wasn't normal, and that something had to be done.

"Morgan, my office. Now."

"No."

Hotch looked ready to murder someone. The team could see a battle of wills taking place, they didn't know who would win, but they did know that the worst was yet to come.

"Morgan."

"Hotch. Are you going to tell them or am I?"

"Morgan, I won't tell you again."

His tone of voice carried the promise of a confrontation if Morgan kept pursing the topic of Emily.

"Tell them what?"

All the team looked around, and in the doorway stood Special Agent Emily Prentiss.


End file.
